


Of Labcoats and Animagi

by meandminniemcg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Queer Eye - Fandom
Genre: Anonymous pen-friendship, Draco Malfoy-centric, Draco needs a hug, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, actually he needs lots of hugs, harry runs an orphanage, lycanthropy disease management, queer eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandminniemcg/pseuds/meandminniemcg
Summary: Fashion icon Draco? That's long past. After the war, he never bought any new clothes and lives in his labcoats. When he doesn't feel confident enough to meet his pen friend Prongs in real life, Luna decides to stage an intervention with a little help from the Fab Five.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 48
Kudos: 262
Collections: Lights Camera Drarry 2020





	1. Dear Opaleye

**Author's Note:**

> Please, don't take offence at me messing around with the timeline. I know that when Teddy was pre-Hogwarts, the Netflix show Queer Eye didn't exist. But for the sake of storytelling, let's just de-age the HP universe a couple of years. (Makes puppy dog eyes at you)
> 
> I tried my best to keep the Fab Five as close to how they are in their show, with the only exception of giving one of them (I don't even know myself who of them it is) magic and making the others research on charms they can recommend.  
> A big thank you to my amazing beta P, to another P for grooming advice (because I'm rather like second-year Harry than like JVN), to I for britpicking Bobby's job and to L for being an amazing sounding board for an idea.

> Dear Opaleye,
> 
> How are you this morning? How was your presentation at the international healers’ conference? I wish I could have been there. But I’m clueless about healing and needed a lot of tutoring to pass Potions at Hogwarts.
> 
> But I know from the few details you let me know that I’m proud of you. Some of my students have lycanthropy, and you make their lives so much easier.
> 
> I told you about Sophia and Tesfay, who love to play seekers’ games with junior practising Snitches. Their mothers passed the lycanthropy on to them even though both mothers didn’t breastfeed them. Every day I’m grateful that his infected parent was his father, and therefore he is free of the disease.
> 
> The twins have it, too. I think I told you about them, too. Marlene, who wants to be a healer when she’s grown up, and Leo, who made the opaleye bookmark for you. Four out of seven kids in my class are infected, Marvin is from an abusive family, and Leyla’s parents were deported without her. And then, there is my godson. His parents died in the war, and I’m raising him with his grandma. I didn’t mention their history for a long time, but by now, I trust you enough to tell you.
> 
> …
> 
> I’m so proud of you.
> 
> Talk to you soon.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Prongs

Draco read the letter for the fifth time. Prongs was proud of him. Of him! He wouldn’t be if he had the slightest idea that the man he was writing to was Draco Malfoy, branded with a Dark Mark when he was 16, Draco Malfoy who had tried to kill Dumbledore, and who had gone scot-free only due to the immense mercy of Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy who couldn’t do enough good deeds in three lifetimes to ever deserve forgiveness, leave alone someone being proud of him or even signing a letter with ‘yours.’

Why had Luna forced this correspondence on him with her big eyes and her talk of imaginary creatures? Fuck it! It wasn’t that Luna had really forced him, he could have said no, only that he was completely incapable of turning down anything Luna would ever suggest. Luna was the daughter of his father’s disowned nonbinary sibling who had been brave enough to take their wife’s name at the wedding.

Not for the first time Draco wished to have a timeturner, to be able to leave his family instead of doing all the evil things he had done as a teenager to please his father. His heartless, abusive father, who had always threatened to harm his mother in order to keep him obedient and threatened to harm him to keep her under his thumb.

He still didn’t know how he could have saved his mother, but he was sure he had done everything wrong.

Draco sat down and started working on his letter to Prongs.

> Dear Prongs,  
>  ~~I’m sorry, I can’t meet you in person. I’m not the type of person you would like to meet in person.~~

How often he had insulted Potter to hide that he fancied him. But he didn’t have the right to be rude to Prongs. Prongs, the only person who fascinated Draco as much as Potter. He had never seen him or heard his voice, but in his fantasy, Prongs had black hair, green eyes and was a bit smaller but stronger than him, just like Potter. Draco guessed he would never get Potter out of his fantasies, even though he could very well imagine himself fancying Prongs with his witty comments on politics and Quidditch and his patience with his seven students.

Draco remembered what a prat he had been in school, disrespecting most of his teachers, with the exception of Severus. Some, like Lockhart, had deserved the disrespect, but when he thought of Professor Lupin, the most competent and caring teacher of Draco’s school years—and he had called him the werewolf and looked down on him.

Beside him in the cell had been Liam Kim, who was maybe two or three years older than him, a former Ravenclaw, who had been on the light side of the war, but was bitten by Greyback and had not declared his lycanthropy infection. Had he declared it under Thicknesse, he would have been sent to Greyback’s pack or put down. And now he was on trial.

They had spent one week in the holding cell together, and as there was nothing to do, they had talked. Liam had been the first person Draco had told his biggest secret: That he was gay. He was rather sure Pansy had figured it out, especially since they had always acted dramatically like a couple, exactly until the moment they were alone. He believed now that Pansy and he had had an unspoken arrangement to make each other look straighter than they were.

It was still not public knowledge, that Draco was gay. His mother knew, and she had smiled at him when he had told her and just said: “I guessed it ever since you kept coming home and all you ever talked about was Mr Potter.” Luna knew and had persuaded him to write to Prongs, who, as she insisted was perfect for him, as she planted dirigible plum trees for both of them, and the Namreifs protecting the saplings mated with each other, and Namreifs mate for life.

Draco knew nothing about Namreifs, he had never heard of them before, but Prongs was amazing. If only he himself wasn’t Draco Malfoy! Prongs deserved something better than a Death Eater. But Draco couldn’t break the contact. He needed to continue writing to Prongs. Even though it was selfish and depraved. But seeing each other in person was out of the question.

He knelt down at the fireplace, took Floo Powder and firecalled Luna. “I can’t meet Prongs in person. I want to keep on writing to him, but to meet him in person is impossible. He would hate me if he knew who I am.”

  


)()(

**An hour later in Ottery St. Catchpole**

As Ginny stepped through the Floo in their living room, one look at Luna showed her that she was feeling sad, too. She was lying on the sofa and staring into a middle distance. 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” She walked over, cast an expansion charm on the sofa and lay down beside her fiancée.

“Draco doesn’t want to meet Prongs in person. He says that Prongs would only hate him if he knew who was hiding behind the pseudonym.” Luna melted into Ginny’s embrace.

“It’s the same with Harry. He says that once Opaleye finds out he’s not some demigod but a flawed, needy person, he will be gone before Harry can say ‘charm.’” Ginny felt desperate for her friend. ‘Needy’ was the adjective least fitting Harry James Potter. What Harry perceived as neediness in himself everybody else would have called demanding that others respect their human rights.

She continued. “Maybe we have to bring in Ron and Hermione for Harry. But I wanted to avoid it, what with Ron’s injury, him losing his job as an Auror, and Hermione’s pregnancy. They have their own issues to handle and shouldn’t be forced to think of staging an intervention for Harry. Also, what does it help if Harry is on board if Draco isn’t? And who can we talk to about it at all? He only is close to me and his mother. All his other friendships consist of one owl for Christmas and one for birthdays.” 

“Gin, Darling, I agree that we need to stage an intervention, but this evening is not the right time to plan it. Let’s watch Netflix and try to calm down and plan tomorrow over breakfast.”

She Accioed the remote control and turned on Netflix. As they chose the show, Ginny had an idea. Hadn’t Lee told her something interesting about the new program WWN Televisual was producing? Where they had to get a special licence to tell four Muggles about magic?

  


)()(

**Two weeks later in Wiltshire**

> Dear Mr. Malfoy,
> 
> We are happy to inform you that Queer Eye Wizarding Britain will come to your house in the two weeks from May 4th to May 19th. Due to a scheduling necessity, the recording of the episode will take two weeks of part-time filming instead of one week full-time.
> 
> Please, make sure to be available for our team during that time. An arrangement for working times will be made directly with your employer.
> 
> Looking forward to working with you.
> 
> Lee Jordan, WWN Televisual

  
Draco had no idea what Queer Eye Wizarding Britain was. He didn’t have a televisual. But the groundskeeper hut he lived in was part of Malfoy Manor, and part of his reparations was that the Ministry had the right to use Malfoy Manor as they wished to for 20 years.

His mother had been granted a two-room suite in the east wing, on condition that she assisted with the maintenance of the main house and made the ballroom available for ministry functions and events the ministry rented it out for, and Draco had chosen the groundskeeper hut and a sidejob of gardening.

The money he made with it, went completely into a foundation for Muggleborns who were injured during the war. For Draco, it was enough that he could spend some time gardening. It felt like he was healing the grounds gradually. He loved it.

The letter from Lee Jordan was a bit rude, if he thought about it, as if Jordan assumed that Draco would love to give his hut away for filming and camp in a hidden spot in the copse for two whole weeks instead. Yet, there was nothing he could do. He knew his place.


	2. A Five Men Whirlwind

“In the next two weeks, we are going to help not one, but two wizards!” Karamo announced as the black car turned into a nondescript street in a London suburb.

“Like a couple?” Jonathan asked as it was written in his script.

“Like two men who have been communicating by anonymized owlpost for over a year, but need a confidence boost to meet in person,” Karamo said. “Their nominators have set up this penfriendship for them, because they have watched each other for years before, and despite a very fraught past, the sexual tension between them has always been immense. Like one of them has dated No-Maj lookalikes of the other in the past and the other collects the first one’s charity calendars.”

The car stopped at a traffic light, and Karamo narrated: “Draco was nominated by his cousin Luna. He is a potions master and microbiologist at St. Mungo’s, and lives alone, Luna says. Apart from occasionally visiting her and his Saturday lunch with his mother, Draco only moves between the hospital and home. He wears clothes that used to be very posh, but are beginning to get threadbare, because the only new things he bought in the last ten years are labcoats. He doesn’t want to be like his father, who is a bigoted racist obsessed with the most expensive outfits.”

“We can show him that taking care of himself fits in well with being better than his father!” Jonathan’s voice rang out with enthusiasm. “Let’s call this mission ‘the Dragon learns to fly.’”

  


)()(

Draco was sitting at his microscope and analysing a blood sample of a patient with a blood curse when he heard a noise outside his lab. Cheerful men’s voices asked Healer Rashid where Draco’s lab was.

That was unusual. Nobody ever wanted to go to Draco’s tiny cubicle. Usually, people activated a protean charm to make him come to them. It was not really good for the efficiency of his work, but what could he do? He was obliged to obey his superiors, and compensate for interruptions by working longer.

Draco cast a stasis charm on the sample. It would have been catastrophic if it dried out. He was glad that he had perfectioned his stasis charms. His charm for blood samples lasted for an impressive time of three days. And he was sure whatever this interruption was would not take that long.

Whoever it was, they knocked at his door.

“Yes?”

Five men entered the room followed by a televisual camera which stayed in the door.

“Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

A man, whose salt-and-pepper hair was combed into an elegant style, and whom he recognized from a picture Luna had shown him, approached him and pulled him into a hug. What was the man’s name again? Tawny? Bronze? No! Tan. Tan France. One of the hosts of Queer Eye. An American show that was now working on a season on WWN Televisual. Those who were going to occupy his groundskeeper hut. He had better pull himself together. Those men were only televisual celebrities, and no Dark Lords. He could do it.

As soon as Tan let go of him, another man pulled him into a hug, this one was blond with a beard. Bobby … Berk, as Draco remembered, followed by the one with long hair, a moustache and beard, who was wearing high heels and a skirt … Jonathan Van Ness, then Karim, no: Karamo and Antoni, if he remembered well what Luna had told him.

And if he was honest with himself, he had to thank Ginevra Weasley for knowing who was hugging him as if he were an old friend of them and not Deatheater scum. Because it had been Ginevra who had insisted on a televisual, when Luna and she had moved in together. He was amazed that he remembered the men so well after watching their show only once.

“Come on, we’ll drive to your home. We’ve already arranged that with your boss,” Karamo said as the commotion slowed down a bit. Draco still felt overwhelmed. As many people had hugged him within five minutes than in all his life before. (His mother, Pansy, that one-night-stand in Muggle Bordeaux, Luna and Greg when he cried on his shoulder at Vince’s funeral – end of the list.)

He followed the men to their black car in a daze.

  
“So, this manor is your house?” Karamo asked, when Malfoy Manor came into view.

“Sort of, but we gave the Ministry the right to use it as they deem fit for twenty years as reparations. My father was in Voldemort’s Inner circle, and I was marked as a Deatheater, too.” Draco felt the tears well up in his eyes thinking of all the evil things he had done. As every time, when he let the memories get close to him, it seemed to lodge in his throat making it hard to breathe.

“How old were you then?” Bobby interjected.

“I was 16.” Draco pressed the words past the lump in his throat.

Somebody’s hand rubbed soothing circles on his arm. “You were underage, literally a child. A child who was raised to do anything to please your father. But you are more than your father’s son. You are a man who spent all his grownup life being a better man than his father.” The voice belonged to Antoni. “We know that, your mother knows that, Luna knows that, and I’m sure that the majority of your colleagues know it, too.”

  


)()(

The Fab Five followed him into his sparsely furnished groundskeeper hut. They looked around. Beside the window, there was a mattress on the ground, next to it, a crate as a nightstand. A clothes rack stood on one side, reminding rather of a flea market than of a wardrobe. Beside it were the only three complete pieces of furniture in the room: A bookshelf, a small table and a swivel chair.

There were no pictures on the walls, and the whole space looked very impersonal. “How long have you lived here?” Bobby inquired finally after a moment of silence.

“Five years.” Draco’s voice sounded shy.

“Do you feel at home here at all?” Karamo put a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Not really. But I also don’t feel as not at home as in most other places.” Draco sighed. “And I’m not quite sure if I should want to feel at home anywhere. All the things that made me feel at home in my parents’ house are forever associated with Voldemort for me. And with my guilt.”

Draco said these things openly. Maybe it would make someone understand that being a bigot could ruin their whole life. “You were how old when the war ended?” Antoni asked.

“Eighteen. I had one year of house arrest, but with the chance of finishing my education, then I studied Muggle microbiology and then healing in France, staying in a dorm at Uni. Later, when I had a chance to return here, I first moved into my mother’s suite, but I couldn’t stand it there. Nobody would rent a flat to me, so I moved into this hut.”

“Is there a place where you really enjoy being?” Jonathan asked him.

“I like going to the Muggle park sometimes in summer. There I can forget who I am and just be a person sitting on a blanket in the grass and reading a book in the sun.”

Meanwhile, Antoni had started looking at the kitchen. There was a Muggle fridge, an oven and stove with a kettle on top, and a microwave. “So, what do you eat here? I can only see milk, cereal, a crate of apples, a jar of tomato sauce and some spaghetti in here.”

“That’s what I eat. That’s all my cooking skills amount to. The most elaborate thing I can cook is fried potatoes.” Draco looked down. At least he had cleaned his fridge yesterday and eaten the last potatoes. “When I was a kid, only house-elves could enter our kitchen. I learned that not everybody lived like that only when I came to Hogwarts, and spent more time away from my father, and my house teacher mentioned that his mother had to cook for his father.”

Draco thought of Severus. He had been strict as his name; now that no house rivalry blocked Draco’s view anymore, he had to admit to himself that Severus had never been fair to the Gryffindors and resented Potter just for looking like his father. Severus had been a bad teacher, except for his very favourite students, of which there were only two, Adrian Pucey and Draco himself. But he had taught Draco, his godson, about life outside the circles of the elites. After his release from house arrest, remembering Severus’ narrations went a long way to limit the damage from Draco’s parents’ lack of practical education.

Tan asked him for a tour of his wardrobe. The grey-haired man took shirt after shirt out, and again and again his smile turned to a frown upon noticing how threadbare some places of the shirts were. “What do you wear when you have special occasions?” he finally asked. “All your wardrobe looks like it’s ready for retirement. But you are still young. The only new-looking things I see here are labcoats and scrubs.”

“Special occasions are the occasions when I stay at home and just listen to music, cuddle with Delilah, my cat, so I'll wear joggers and a sweater.” Draco said sheepishly.

“Draco, I don’t mean that type of special occasion. I mean occasions like dates, pub nights, or if you don’t have people to date or go to the pub with, St. Mungo’s Christmas Party.” Tan’s voice sounded exasperated but not unfriendly.

“I used to wear those threadbare things for such occasions before they became threadbare. And I haven’t gone to any such occasion in many years. I’m sure the St. Mungo’s staff is glad every year that I’m not attending their party.” Draco fidgeted so hard with his shirt button he twisted it off.

“Luna, who nominated you for Queer Eye, told me you’ll have a date at the end of the two weeks. You will meet your pen pal Prongs in person.” The expression on Tan’s face suddenly reminded Draco of Professor McGonagall--not the looks he had seen on her face when he used to parrot his father, the look when she told him that he would come back to take his NEWTs at Hogwarts. Unflinching, stern, but reassuring.

“I–I can’t go there. He’ll hate me,” Draco mumbled.

“Did he write that he would hate you?” Tan placed a hand on Draco’s arm. It felt weird but comforting to get such a gesture from someone who was no relative of his.

“No, but he doesn’t know I’m Draco Malfoy.” Draco sighed.

“And what if he doesn’t see Draco Malfoy who took the Dark Mark at 16, but Draco Malfoy who has worked hard every day on becoming a better man than he used to be? Draco Malfoy who developed some amazing potions that keep people safe and that changed the life of lycanthropy patients around the world? The man who forced governments around the world to no longer treat lycanthropy patients as dark creatures?” Tan looked into Draco’s eyes. “Draco Malfoy, who donates whatever he can spare to charities. What you did in your youth was bad, no doubt, but you deserve to forgive yourself. Never to forget, but to forgive.”

Draco felt numb. Forgiving oneself - wasn’t that something for small sins, for things like smoking gillyweed and splinching yourself or stealing candies for three Galleons at Honeyduke’s? Draco didn’t think it was for letting the Deatheaters into Hogwarts or trying to kill Dumbledore. 

  
Draco’s head swam a bit, but in a good way, when Jonathan asked him to show him his grooming products. He led the way to the bathroom, and Jonathan picked the products up one by one.

“Draco, I rarely see a well-stocked crème-and-lotion shelf as you have. Purfskin is a good brand, and the sun protection is good, but your hair gel needs replacing. You glue your hair in place.” He picked up the jar of Shear Magic Pure Straightener hair gel as if it were flobberworm dung, wrinkled his nose and threw it into the dustbin. “We’ll buy something better.”

“My father used to say this is the only thing that can control my unruly hair.” Draco looked down. His father had often made him feel like his looks were barely acceptable for a Malfoy.

“Is your father someone you feel close to?” Jonathan inquired.

“No, actually, he was an abusive bigot.” It took Draco all his courage to word this knowing very well that many people would hear it, but it felt fucking liberating.

Jonathan smiled at him encouragingly. “Time to throw your father’s ghost out of your bathroom, then.”


	3. The Dragon Learns to Fly Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: At the end of this chapter, Draco has an anxiety attack. If that triggers you, you can avoid reading it by stopping after the second letter and skipping to the next chapter. Take good care of yourselves.

> Dear Opaleye,
> 
> Today, I had the weirdest day in my life so far (and that includes the day Hagrid informed me that magic is real and I’m a wizard, as well as the day someone who wanted to get me into trouble signed me up for a competition I wasn’t really supposed to take part in), but I think it was weird in a good way.
> 
> Do you remember my adoptive sister who is in Magical Games and Sports? She organized a group of work colleagues working for the WWN to volunteer and give some rooms of the orphanage, where I’m teaching pre-Hogwarts classes, a makeover.
> 
> They did all sorts of joking around with the costumes and props for Luna’s theatre group that found their way into my wardrobe because there’s no space for them anywhere else. Imagine a posh-looking grey-haired man in a niffler onesie lifting the hood up high, so it won’t tousle his hair. One of them, who was wearing higher heels than Louise Delacour, put on my Quidditch leathers, and one of his colleagues gave him a piggyback ride.
> 
> It was fun, but now I feel self-conscious, because of the way I’m living, having my room full of stuff, but only two trunks full of stuff are my own. It’s like everyone else inhabits my life more than me.
> 
> Don’t get me wrong, I love to be there for the kids, for my found family and friends. And I love being able to use my privileges to help others, but today I finally got the message my best friend also keeps telling me, that I can’t sidealong anybody if I’m too exhausted to Apparate. Also, I tend to sidealong others, but not to ask for a sidealong. It’s so much harder if my friends are parts of couples, or have real siblings, doting parents, helpful kids, and only I’m alone. Yes, I was unofficially adopted into one of my best friends’ family, but my adopted siblings have spouses and kids, my adoptive parents raised seven kids and now help raising lots of grandkids. And my only adoptive brother who doesn’t have a family of his own lives abroad and is married to his job. If I were to live my needy side, I would become a liability. And they deserve better than that.

Draco let the letter fall to the table. It hurt him almost physically how resigned Prongs sounded. Why could he not see how awesome he was and how much he deserved to sometimes let go and just let someone be there for him. If only he could be worthy of such an amazing man… But there was no way Prongs would want someone with the Dark Mark on his wrist and the matching guilt he could never in his life atone for. Prongs had once in a letter mentioned being on the run from death eaters. So, he could never befriend one, leave alone develop feelings for him.

The doorbell rang, and Draco got up and opened. Outside stood Tan and Bobby with the televisual team.

“Where are the others?” Draco inquired.

“Antoni is making chutney, Karamo is talking to another hero’s family, and Jonathan will join us later,” Tan said.

“You lived in a manor with lots of antique furniture,” Bobby started the conversation. “What style period do you like best?”

“I’m put off antiques, as well as furniture made of dark wood for the rest of my life. That happens when you have lived in a house full of antiques with Voldemort turning any room he is in into a torture chamber. I’ve seen things that should not be mentioned when children might watch with their parents.” Draco’s voice sounded cracked.

Bobby put his hand on Draco’s arm. “Are you in touch with a–mindhealer—I think that is the British term for wizarding psychotherapists?”

“Yes, I’ve attended mindhealing sessions on a regular basis, my therapist helped me accept that I’m gay and have spent all my youth fancying someone my father wanted me to hate. Also, he taught me skills I can apply if I get an anxiety attack.” Draco thought about how difficult it was to get a mindhealer at all. Mr. Cole always changed the topic when Draco mentioned the war. From what Luna told him about her mindhealing sessions, he supposed his own were rather substandard, but it had taken him three years to get a mindhealer who was ready to treat him at all after his return to Britain.

“We’ll go to Habitat and look around to see what kind of furniture you like.” Bobby got into the car, and Draco sat down beside him. Tan got into the back of the car.

  


)()(

During a walk through Habitat and Selfridges, Draco found that it was not so easy to allow himself to accept his liking for accessories that people would perhaps associate with femininity. There was a cushion with peacocks that reminded him of how his mother had admonished him never to let his father hear that he pitied the peafowl for not having the splendid green, blue and gold feathers he had seen in a picture.

Their next stop was a Muggle boutique. Tan made him try on different outfits, and Draco’s favourite one was a flowy, white shirt that made him look androgynous.

When they had finished, Jonathan was waiting for them in the car to take Draco to a salon in Soho. He washed the gel out of Draco’s hair. “Your hair curls a little. It’s a waste to make it completely straight. The owner of this salon is a Squib. You can transfigure your hair longer than it is now, if you want to make the best of your hair structure.”

Draco closed his eyes and focussed his magic. Long hair fell on his shoulders. I don’t want to look like Father! He opened at his eyes and was amazed. His hair looked nothing like his father’s, despite having the same colour; it looked rather similar to his mother’s every morning before the hair charms and potions – loose waves, that curled at the tips.

“Yass, Queen, now we can see what gorgeous hair you’ve been hiding behind all that gel.” Jonathan picked up a comb with wide teeth and combed through it a bit. “It’s not unruly, it just has some cute natural curls. Prongs will have a hard time keeping his hands to himself when he sees your gorgeous hair. Could you imagine wearing it at shoulder length?”

“Ohh, I’d like that. I always wanted long hair, but not to look like my father. How does it look if I tie it back? I have to have it tied back for work, or is it better to get a bandana?” Draco felt excited.

“We’ll try out a few different ways of keeping it out of your face and your work, but first things first: Such gorgeous, silky blond curls need tender care. You need a lightweight shampoo and conditioner, and whenever possible, take the time to air dry your hair. What drying charm do you use?” Jonathan sprayed something at Draco’s hair.

“Crinos sicco,” Draco answered.

With a visible cringe, Jonathan replied: “That’s like drying with sandpaper. Cast a Siccatio diffusa.”

  


)()(

**The next day, in the evening**

> Dear Prongs,
> 
> Yesterday, I found out another area of my life where I had let my father define me. I thought that coming out as gay and renouncing his blood purist beliefs meant I had freed myself from his influence. But getting a haircut from an actual hairdresser, not from my mother’s last house elf (Daisy is free, but she calls herself my mother’s elf) taught me I had not.
> 
> When he washed out the hair potion, he didn’t cast any charms, and he used a shampoo that didn’t contain any straightening potions. Turns out, I have never seen my natural hair structure. At least not after my third birthday, when hair potions can be used on a child’s hair.
> 
> I always assumed my hair looked like my father’s, which would be true about its colour, but the structure is not straight like his. It’s curly like my mother’s. It may sound like a matter of little importance to you, but it makes an immense difference. I can wear my hair in a style I’ve always liked but never dared even consider, assuming I would look like my father.
> 
> It turned out, I inherited my hair structure from my mother’s side. With my father’s A+ parenting, I’d rather be my mother’s spitting image than my father’s. (Although, I’d say I look by far more masculine.) She may have been on potions during both wars and also in between and may therefore have obeyed him unconditionally until the day the elves no longer put the potion into her morning tea, but I know she loves me, and she always did. She used what strength she had to protect me and to help me be as much of myself as was possible. And since the end of the war, she has supported me in everything, including the fact that I’m gay. She even went to Pride to Muggle London with me, wearing a “Proud of my gay son” t-shirt.
> 
> How are the renovations proceeding? Any new shenanigans from the WWN men or from the kids? I hope you have lots of fun.
> 
> Have a wonderful evening,
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Opaleye

  
Draco tied the letter to his owl Hekate’s leg, gave her an owl treat and sent her off to Prongs. As far as he knew, everybody who had been a decent person in his family had been disowned. And some were even killed by their own relatives. How could Prongs ever consider him worthy of a friendship if Prongs knew that Opaleye was Draco Malfoy?

If he was honest, the House of Black was just minimally better than the Malfoys. And the few good people, like Sirius, Andromeda and Regulus were just proof of what a coward Draco was. After all, they were the proof it was possible to be better than he had been.

He prepared a valerian chamomile tea. He would rather have taken a dose of Dreamless Sleep, but he had harmed his health during the probation by excessive Dreamless Sleep consumption. After drinking his tea, he tried meditating, then lay down in his bed, but the last time he cast a Tempus it was 3.30 am. When his wand alarm poked his shoulder, at 6 am, his head hurt, and his eyes burnt.

He took an icy shower, drank a triple espresso, and dressed up. The worry about the date still made him want to claw off his skin, but he had to pull himself together. His mind went a mile a minute thinking about how he could avoid the disaster that was bound to happen when Prongs would see him. After all no restyling could delete his past.

A knock at the door interrupted his brooding. He got up, and only when he had already opened the door, did he remember he should have cast a glamour to hide how exhausted he was looking.

“Draco, what happened? Are you okay?” Antoni’s voice sounded worried, as he, Karamo and the camera team came into the house.

“I – What if Prongs sees me and decides that he doesn’t even want to sit at a table with me. Prongs was on the Light side. He deserves someone better than me.” By now, tears streamed down Draco’s face.

“Camera off!” Karamo yelled over his shoulder, while Antoni put a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“I don’t think he would do that. The person who connected you both with each other is Luna. She’s your friend. She would never have done so, if she didn’t know that he believes in giving people a second chance.” Antoni said reassuringly.

“You can talk to Luna, she’s coming here in a few minutes, as well as your mother, they both will join the cooking class, at least the first part.” Karamo added.


	4. The Dragon Learns to Fly Part 2

When they had calmed Draco down, and he had cast a glamour to conceal that he had been crying, Antoni and Karamo asked Draco to help them unload the food for the cooking lesson. There were two large crates of groceries, lots of vegetables and fruits, cheeses, tofu and legumes.

There were things his flatmates in France had cooked, like green asparagus, Muggle plants that could be used for magic, like ginger, turmeric and coriander. There were things that he didn’t know, like paper-thin round white sheets of a fragile texture. Draco couldn’t resist curiosity. He touched and smelled what he didn’t know. The white sheets didn’t have any particular smell.

Antoni smiled, and said: “That’s rice paper. One can use it for summer rolls.”

Before Draco could ask what summer rolls were, he felt the wards letting somebody through. Two sets of steps walked through the corridor, and before they were there, he recognized the clacking of his mother’s court shoes and the barely audible tap tap of Luna’s favourite ballet slippers.

“Come in,” he called out before they could knock.

Luna was dressed in her typical unorthodox style, and his mother was wearing a modest dress, but her posture made her still look like a grande dame.

Everyone greeted each other with hugs, and Draco was surprised at how easily his mother opened up to the show hosts.

Antoni put the rice paper as well as glass noodles into water to soften them, then told Draco to cut carrots into julienne strips. They put some carrot strips, glass noodles, a sliver of tofu and some “cilantro,” as Antoni called the coriander, on a lettuce leaf and wrapped it into the rice paper. Antoni showed them how to make a dip sauce from Hoisin sauce, lime juice, soy sauce and coriander. “If your guests aren’t allergic, you can also add peanuts.”

Then, Antoni showed Draco some other dishes and kitchen tricks, among them treacle tart. 

The scent reminded him of green eyes, fights in school corridors, and desperate wanks behind the drapes of his four-poster immediately after the fight, still smelling Potter’s scent. “This reminds me of a boy I went to school with. He loved treacle tart. How often I watched him across the great hall!” 

“Was he a friend of yours?” Anthony inquired, while he took the tart out of the oven. 

“No, I wanted to be his friend the first time I saw him, but I insulted two people he cared about. Then, of course, he didn’t want to be my friend. And I was a sore loser when he rejected my friendship and decided if we can’t be friends, we must be nemeses. I was such a dramatic kid. It was not until fourth year when I realized that I was attracted to him. But by then Voldemort was back. And, of course, the boy was on the Light side.” Draco looked down. “And then, suddenly he was brought into my home as a captive, and I was asked if I recognized him. I knew him, even though his face was distorted, I could never have not recognized him. His magic and his scent are unmistakable. But I told my aunt I can’t be sure it’s him. He grabbed my wand, and my hand let go of it after only a mock fight. And later, he saved my life. Of course, he was far out of my league, and after the war we saw each other twice. Once at the trial, and once when he gave me my wand back. I have no idea what my pen friend looks like, but he is the only one for whom I have a similar feeling when I get his letters. But - how can I? I have this.” He pointed at his Dark Mark.

Antoni looked at it and replied: “You have the Dark Mark, but it only defines where you were then. You spent more time doing good than you spent as a Death Eater.”

  
When they had finished cooking, Karamo sat down with Draco outside the hut. “How has it been to have five men walk into your life and shake it up?” 

“Well, you shook it up from the first second. In the first five minutes, the number of people who have hugged me in my life has doubled. I’ve never been hugged by many people, and especially not by men. Men have hugged me only twice in my life before. One friend at a funeral, and the other was my only one-night stand.” Draco felt a bit embarrassed after saying this, but the words were out.

“What about your father? Didn’t he give you hugs when you were small?” Karamo asked softly.

“No, he thought pureblood men don’t hug and from when I was seven years old, my mother also only hugged me secretly. He was very abusive, to me and to Mother. I’m glad he will never be part of my life again.” It was the first time Draco had said this to someone face to face who wasn’t his therapist. He had written it to Luna and Prongs, but then he had not seen their reactions in the same second.

Karamo put a hand on his arm. “Giving and getting hugs is a healthy thing. And regardless of your past, you deserve to accept love into your life.”

“What if nobody ever loves me?” 

“Your mother and Luna love you the way a mother and a close friend love someone. And Luna wants you to go on the date with Prongs because she thinks he might love you in a different way. I’ve brought you something to look at.” Karamo lifted a tool case onto the garden table. He got up, opened it and brought out a balance scale.

After setting it up, Karamo put a box with the word Lego on it on the table. “These are Legos, a Muggle toy. You can build things with them.” He demonstrated stacking a few Legos on top of each other. “I thought, I’ll show you something with Legos and the scale. Please, put some Legos on one scale to symbolize your guilt from the war.”

“I hurt a lot of people before the war already, because I parroted my father’s beliefs,” Draco stated, grabbing handfuls of Legos and piling them on the scale pan closer to him. The first handful he called his pre-war guilt. He kept piling until the pan touched the tabletop.

“How did you feel when you took the Dark Mark?” Karamo asked. 

“I didn’t want to take it, but I knew if I were to say no, Voldemort would kill me. If I were to run away, he would kill my mother. She was not able to run away with me; my father had cursed her so that if she were to leave the Malfoy properties for longer than three days without my father, she would die under extreme pain.” Draco’s voice sounded wobbly, and he felt his hands tremble.

Karamo asked: “Can I adjust the scale to what you just told me and to the fact that during most of the things you put on the guilt pan you were underage and during the rest barely of age?”

“Ad-adjust? Y-yes.” 

Karamo took two thirds of the legos off the scale pan, divided them up in two piles on the table and took post-its and a pen from his pocket. In front of the scale pan, he wrote ‘Draco’s guilt.’ In front of the other two piles he wrote ‘Voldemort’s guilt’ and ‘Lucius’ guilt.’ “Okay?”

“Y-yes.” It was barely above a whisper. And Draco’s hands were shaking even more.

“You were not free from guilt, but your guilt is not half as big as you see it. Your father and Voldemort were more guilty than you. These portions of guilt are only their guilt in you becoming a Death Eater. If we took all their guilt, we would need more Legos than we have here.

Another thing: What colour is guilt?” Karamo asked Draco.

“Grey,” Draco breathed.

“Can you transfigure the Legos to grey?” Karamo asked. 

“Canus sit!” Draco made the wand movement for colour spells, a circle.

The Legos on and beside the scale turned grey. 

“Let’s turn to the good things you did in your life so far. What are you proud of doing? Put Legos for it on the empty scale pan.” Karamo lifted the box with the colourful Legos towards Draco.

“I nursed a ficus back to life from having only two leaves.” Draco took one green Lego and placed it on the pan. 

“Is that all?” Karamo asked, beckoning to the Lego box.

“Maybe I could take one Lego for tutoring my friend Greg and some younger Slytherin students during my school days?” Draco’s voice sounded shaky again. 

“Take more Legos, at least one for every student who passed their exam due to your help.” Karamo placed a handful of Legos into Draco’s hand. He took twelve blue bricks and put them onto the pan. Then he picked a red brick.

“That’s it. One brick for the three-month injectable Wolfsbane Potion.”

“Only one? You helped every lycanthropy patient. You should put a lot of Legos on the pan for the improved potion. And also for moonshining to be able to donate more to the Padfoot Foundation Orphanage.” Karamo took handfuls of Legos and piled them on the pan. “Luna told me that when she was a captive in Malfoy Manor, you would sometimes sneak into the dungeons at night and bring them food and heal the most painful injuries. She thinks, both she and Dean Thomas would have bled to death internally if you hadn’t healed their injuries, leaving only exterior bruises.” 

Draco stared at the scales. Was limiting the damage a good deed? He had not even thought much except not wanting to get caught by anybody. 

“It was not a good deed, it was only reducing the damage I had done,” he whispered.

“The effect was that people survived the war, who would not have survived otherwise. And if Voldemort had caught you, what would have happened?” Karamo took Draco’s trembling hand.

“They would - have - killed me.” By now big tears were streaming down Draco’s face.

“That means, you risked your life to save their lives.” Karamo piled colourful Legos on the pan with his left hand, while still holding Draco’s hand in his right hand.

When Draco had calmed down a bit, Karamo continued speaking: “Let’s look at the present again. What have you been working on recently?” “I’ve cooperated with curse damage and we developed a potion to manage the effect of Jacques Bardian’s curse and restores the red blood cells’ ability to transmit oxygen,” Draco said shyly.

“So you save lives on your job.” Karamo added more colourful Legos. “Draco, can you look at the scales?”

Draco looked at them. The pan with the colourful Legos was far heavier than the one with the grey Legos. “But - but people will never see the good things I can do with my life now as half as important as my Dark Mark. And I think when Prongs sees me, he will immediately walk out on me. I’d rather not see that. I think I can’t go to that date.”

“You are afraid that Prongs will walk out on you once he sees your face and knows you are Draco Malfoy?” Karamo mirrored the statement. “Or worse, he might hex or curse me. I know how often people on the street do that, or they spit at me. I can live with the correspondence ending, but I can’t live with seeing hate in his face.” 

“Would you feel better if you write to him and tell him you are Draco Malfoy? So, if he hates you he won’t come there at all? He won’t come there to hex you or spit at you in front of a camera, and the camera will be there, as he is well aware of.” Karamo suggested.

“Y-yes.”

  


> Dear Prongs,
> 
> It would make me happy to see you in person if you were still ready to see your friend Opaleye in me. However, there is a big risk that as soon as you see me face to face, you will immediately hate me, and I’d rather not see your face if I learned that you do so.
> 
> Maybe I’m a coward, but on the other hand, would you want to Apparate to the next Apparation point, spend money on a drink in a restaurant and then not even enjoy it? I think it’s better for both of us if you find out who I am before seeing me in person.
> 
> I promise, and I would be ready anytime to take Veritaserum and prove, that every word I said about my thoughts and feelings in my letters to you were the truth. Yet, I couldn’t blame you if you were to think I just want to get into people’s good graces again. That’s literally what I hear every time I do something that helps people.
> 
> (If getting into people’s good graces were my aim in life, I would never have returned to Britain in the first place.)
> 
> I’m summoning all my courage and writing it here: My name is Draco Malfoy. I know you have heard lots about me. And nothing good.
> 
> I’m the man who wasn’t sent to Azkaban because of Harry Potter’s mercy. And I hope that Potter will never regret that he had mercy on me.
> 
> I will be at the Lakshmi’s tomorrow at seven, and if you don’t come, that’s okay.
> 
> Afraid but hopeful,
> 
> Draco


	5. The Date

**Fab Five Lounge, Soho, London**

Antoni carried two cakes and Earl Grey tea to the sofa table one after the other. “We got two cakes from our two heroes’ families: A treacle tart from the Weasleys, and a tarte Tatin from Narcissa.”

“Mmm, these cakes both smell delicious. Have you asked Narcissa for that recipe?” Tan asked.

“Yes, but it will take a little experimenting because the elf who baked it uses elvish measurements.”

Jonathan took the remote control. “Let’s see what Draco is doing.”

On screen, Draco was standing in his bathroom, wearing a bathrobe and spraying saltwater spray into his hair.

“Yassss, Queen!” Jonathan cheered.

The camera cut to the bedroom, where Draco just buttoned up his flowy white shirt. He was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged his arse just perfectly and Chelsea boots. Then, he sat down at his new dresser with a mischievous grin and applied eyeliner.

“Yay! He’s doing what he likes to do!” Tan said and high-fived Jonathan. They watched Draco stroke over the pale oakwood of his new dresser and then turn and touch the king-sized bed with the blue and sage coloured duvets.

Draco went into the other room, which was now furnished as a sitting room and study. Here, too, the furniture was modern but made of natural wood. He looked at the blue sofa, and at the mural above it, a picture of a rainbow over a landscape in the Scottish Highlands. Draco smiled. This landscape reminded him of watching Potter near the Quidditch pitch.

  


)()(

**Twenty minutes later, Lakshmi’s, Islington**

The waiter ushered Draco to a table that overlooked the door and the window. He sat down and waited for Prongs. Would Prongs show up? He hadn’t answered the letter. It might be because Draco had taken too long to send it, but what if Prongs wanted nothing to do with Draco Malfoy? 

Draco stared at the door. He felt his nervousness rise and had to force himself not to twist off his shirt button or fidget with the tablecloth. He could do this. After all, he had faced his aunt Bellatrix and lied to her. He had even concealed his fear from Voldemort with the occlumency skills his mother had taught him. He had had to pretend he was learning occlumency from Aunt Bella, knowing he wouldn’t survive if he could not hide his real thoughts from her. But that was motivated by fear. This was hope, and hope was a very different thing. Hope made him lose his Malfoy mask.

Something caught his eye at the window. He took a closer look. Potter was pacing outside, his posture revealing that he felt tense, probably nervous. Was Potter going on a date here, too? Or did he have a meeting with a bunch of Weasleys? It was a humiliating thought that Potter might witness him being stood up by Prongs.

Potter’s mouth seemed to mumble a debate with himself, then he seemed to take a deep breath, lift his head like someone who summons all his courage, and he disappeared behind the wall, just to open the door and walk in.

He looked drool-worthy, as he walked towards him in a berry-coloured button-up shirt under a leather jacket, and jeans that hugged his frame perfectly. His hair no longer looked like a bird’s nest, but like well-groomed, artfully arranged tight curls.

Wait – Is he really walking towards me? Draco looked around, all the tables around his were empty.

“Hello.” Potter’s voice sounded a little shaky.

“Are _you_ Prongs?” Draco’s voice sounded thin.

“I – I can go, if you don’t want me around. I know, I’m not your type, but I hoped at least we could talk like we would by letter. I loved our correspondence…” Potter looked – maybe almost frightened.

“Sit down, please.” Draco was shocked at how scared he was that Potter might really walk away. “Of course, I want you around. I – You came here, fully aware that it’s me.”

“I’ve written to you for three months fully aware that it’s you, Draco.” Potter looked down shyly. “Hermione told me that you were the expert witness instrumental in repealing the Werewolf Wand Act because it’s incompatible with the Anti-Discrimination Act of 2000. Around the same time, you wrote about borrowing dressrobes to testify before the Wizengamot. I asked Luna if you are Opaleye, and she said yes. I was afraid to reveal my identity because I thought I would lose your friendship if you knew that it’s me. You always detested me.”

“No, I never did.” Why did Potter believe that?

“But – the ‘Potter stinks’ badges? And the remarks about my ugly hair?” Potter looked so vulnerable; Draco had never seen him this vulnerable before.

“I just called the grapes I couldn’t reach sour because you rejected me in first year.” Draco felt his hand begin to tremble. “Looking back, you could not have befriended me, not with the things I said about Hagrid and Weasley.”

“I didn’t like your attitude towards my friends, but to be honest, you still were part of my bisexual awakening, although I was quite in denial of it.” Potter confessed, fidgeting with the napkin.

Draco felt a very distinct twitch against the zipper of his trousers. Fuck! Potter had always been attractive with his emerald eyes, his black hair and his Seeker’s build, and as a grown man, his baritone voice. “You were my gay awakening.” Draco blurted out.

“Really? Did you really not find me ugly?”

“Never. But you called me pointy and ferrety.”

“Sparkling silver eyes, beautiful hands and the finest arse ever don’t qualify as insults.” Potter chuckled.

“I guess not.” Draco fell silent as the waitress approached with the menus. As she asked what they wanted to drink, Draco remembered that Potter wrote in one letter that he didn’t drink alcohol, because his drinking had been problematic in the first year after the war. So, he quickly ordered Shloer, his favourite Muggle soft drink, and the only posh thing he sometimes allowed himself these days.

“I’ll take the same,” Potter said.

Draco noticed, after they both had decided to order vegetable pakoras for starters, that Potter turned the menu directly to the page with the vegetarian dishes. “Are you a vegetarian, too?”

“It sort of comes with my Animagus form. I’m a stag, like my father was.” Potter gave him a shy smile.

“I know what you mean. Oh, fuck!” How did Draco spill his secret so fast? Well, yes, he was registered, he had registered his Animagus form in France, and the British Ministry had been obliged to accept his registration. But he hardly ever transformed. Also, he felt like he had no right to use his Animagus form.

Potter perked up. “Are you an Animagus, too, Draco?”

_Fuckfuckfuck! Why can’t he be as oblivious as he used to be in school? Okay, probably because his mind isn’t occupied with surviving the noseless megalomaniac’s next attack, but still… Wait. Did he just call me Draco?_

“You called me by my first name?” Draco’s voice sounded embarrassingly squeaky.

“That’s what one calls a friend.” Potter’s voice sounded like a deadpanning voice, but his smile was like the sun coming through between the clouds.

“You see me as a friend? Despite all the things I did?” Draco’s face felt terribly hot, yet it was a glorious feeling.

“Because of all the things you did after that. And, Draco, I see you as someone who could easily be more than a friend.” Harry took Draco’s hand.

The waitress interrupted them to bring their drinks and ask if they had decided.

“We’ll take the vegetable pakoras for starters, and we don’t know about the rest yet.” Harry said, and Draco was just grateful for not needing to speak.

Harry was still holding his hand, and caressing the back of it with his thumb. It felt perfect.

“Would you rather eat something mild or something spicier?” Harry asked softly. “I’ve eaten here before. I could give you advice about it.” Draco finally managed a coherent answer. “Mild to medium, maybe.”

“What do you think of vegetable thali? That’s different dishes to try. We could order them for two, and you taste and take what you like, and I take the rest?” Harry suggested.

Draco just gave him a smile and nodded.

When the waitress came and brought their vegetable pakoras, Harry ordered mild to medium vegetable thali with extra raita and naan. “So, are you an Animagus, Draco?”

“Yes, I became one in the summer between sixth and seventh year. I wanted to go unnoticed, to escape the attention, but for that, my Animagus form is worst. I’m a unicorn. I could only transform in my locked room. They would have killed me for potions ingredients if they had seen me.” Draco had never told anyone about this before, not even Luna or his mother.

“I became an Animagus to escape the pressure to be heroic at all times after the war. It helped me to stop drinking and regain control over my life. Also, I can be there for the kids during full moon nights.” Harry paused, then continued. “I founded the orphanage when I heard that a child from Teddy’s nursery school had to go to a ministry cell to transform at the age of three years. I looked into it and found out that there are four kids in that situation. So, that was how I dropped out of the Auror program and turned Grimmauld Place into the Padfoot Foundation Orphanage. I’m sorry that I wrote that I’m a teacher, but everyone knows the Padfoot Foundation Orphanage, You would have found out who I am within seconds.”

“It was okay. I understood it the moment I saw you that you can’t just tell someone whose name you don’t know. But what does being an Animagus have to do with looking after the kids during the full moon?” Draco took a sip of his drink.

“An Animagus can be around werewolves during the full moon without endangering themselves. My father and Sirius were Animagi to be there for Remus, I mean Professor Lupin during their time at Hogwarts.”

“What do you do to help them?” Draco was intrigued.

“We spend the full moon on a warded piece of property. They acknowledge me as the pack leader, and I can encourage them to play until they fall asleep. The wolfsbane makes them less dangerous, but it doesn’t really make them comfortable with themselves either, but being around an Animagus does. While Wolfsbane potion reduces self-injuries by 50% and aggression against humans by 75%, a combination of the potion and an Animagus to accompany them reduces both by 100% according to my experience.” Harry gave Draco one of his stunning smiles.

Draco was stunned by the fact that this perfect man was interested in him.

  


)()(

After dinner, they walked slowly through Islington.

After the second time they passed a wizard and just managed to cast a Notice-me-not on time, Harry said shyly. “Draco, this doesn’t mean we have to do anything, but I would like to spend more time with you tonight, but be far away from the public. Would you mind spending the rest of the evening with me in Grimmauld Place?”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat. No, he couldn’t show how much the thought of it overjoyed him. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. “I was taught as a teen that putting out on the first date is slutty, b--”

“Okay, to prove to you that I don’t expect sex just because I paid and invited you.” Harry waved his hand in a pattern at his crotch. “Flaccidus!”

“Damn your chivalry, I wanted to have sex with you tonight.” Draco whisper-yelled.

“I have two hands and a mouth. Don’t worry.” Harry said appeasingly.

“So, we’ll start this on uneven footing? No.” Draco drew his wand and cast a Flaccidus on his own crotch. “It lasts four hours, I think. We’ll just have to wait, and do the cuddling before the sex.”

“Brat!” Harry pulled him in for a kiss, then walked with him into an alley and sidealonged him to Grimmauld Place.

  


)()(

Draco woke up, feeling soft breaths against the back of his neck. So, it wasn’t a dream! Prongs really was Harry Potter! He felt giddy at the thought that the two men he had developed feelings for were one and the same person. They had talked, kissed and cuddled for hours yesterday, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Harry’s arm was close to Draco’s face, and Draco took in Harry’s heady, intoxicating scent. He had never felt so happy. He leaned slightly forward and kissed Harry’s arm where he could reach him. Harry woke up slowly and whispered into Draco’s ear: “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, handsome.” Draco picked up his wand, turned around, cast breath freshener charms on both of them and then kissed Harry soundly. Harry’s lips and his tongue felt perfect. Without even interrupting the kiss, Harry banished their t-shirts to the chair. He peppered little kisses across Draco’s neck and chest, then licked across Draco’s left nipple.

“You like that, Draco.”

“Nngh, yes. Please, more.” Draco gasped, as Harry trailed kisses down his abs, then dipped his tongue into Draco’s navel, making him gasp with arousal. Harry’s hand found its way under the waistband of his boxers, and Draco decided to wear lace knickers next time. He wanted to drive Harry as crazy as Harry drove him. 

Harry’s fingers ghosted across his hip, then moved to the middle and began stroking his cock. He moved back up to kiss Draco’s lips again, then cast a wandless Lubrico on both their cocks and they both got lost in the delicious friction.

  


)()(

As they stepped out of the room, children rushed out of every other door. “Harry, good morning Harry. Is that Mr Opaleye?” The kids talked at the same time.

“Good morning. Yes, that’s Opaleye, but his real name is Draco.” Draco bowed like an actor. “Hello, nice to meet you all. Harry told me a lot about how brilliant you all are. I guess I must ask your permission to court Harry.”

“Mr Draco?” A boy with dark skin and cornrows asked.

“Just Draco. And what’s your name?” Draco smiled at him.

“Tesfay. Do you love Harry?”

“We’ve just had our first date yesterday, but I’ve known him since we were eleven, and I have yet to see a side of him that I don’t love. So, I bet that I can love everything of him.” Draco blushed.

A woman who resembled Mother, with grey-streaked hair a little lighter than Aunt Bella looked into the room. “Draco? Is that you? I’m your Aunt Andie.” She walked up to him, got on her tiptoes and pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you won our Harry’s heart. Take good care of him, you couldn’t find a better man. And tell your mother that I forgave her long ago, and that she could visit me one of these days.” She turned, disappeared in the room, just to stick her head back out again. “Rashers or croissants with jam for breakfast?”

“Croissants, please. I’m a vegetarian.” Draco smiled.

“Are you a herbivore Animagus, too?” A girl pulled at his sleeve.

“Marls, most people aren’t Animagi,” a boy with turquoise hair said.

“But I am. Want to see it?” Draco couldn’t keep from grinning.

The children shouted their assent.

“Use your indoor voices, everyone.” Harry admonished with a chuckle.

Draco walked into the middle of the room, and the children made enough space for him that he could have transformed into an elephant. He concentrated and transformed into his unicorn form.

“Ohh! Beautiful!” A girl approached and started petting his mane.

Draco neighed and transformed back.

“What’s your Animagus name?” Teddy piped up.

“I don’t have one.” Draco fidgeted.

One of the girls giggled. “Captain Sparkle Pants!” 

“Nope. My cousin isn’t that silly,” Teddy yelled at her.

“He needs a beautiful name,” Marlene demanded. “If he were a woman, I would say something like Amalthea or Celeste.”

“Something with stars if his human name is a constellation,” another girl interjected. “Maybe Astrios.”

“I like that.” Draco gave the kids a wide smile.

“Can you run with us tomorrow night, Astrios?” the boy who resembled Marlene asked.

“I’ll discuss it with Harry. If he says it’s safe, I will.” Draco smiled.

Harry whispered in his ear, “I’m keeping you.”

“No, I’m keeping you and the kids.” He leaned in and kissed Harry.

“Eww. Gross,” one of the kids shouted.

Draco thought that there was nothing better in life than to be gross with Harry Potter.

**Author's Note:**

> ***
> 
> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2020/works) on 15 June 2020.
> 
> Please show your appreciation to the creator with kudos and comments :)


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